The Irish standard., 1887-10-01
.SHAM.ROCKS FROM ERIN.
FREEDOM FOR IRELAND.

OF tyrants DER the surging brine
The cause of that we can define,
The League is wide and strong.
The sons of Erin did combine
To hold their own-their sheep and kline
The nation said, 1.-THE land is mine,
Nursing lofty, grand design,
To hasten on the swift recline
Of cold, repining wrong.
The dissipated tyrants hate
To hear the cry, "Emancipate."
Not long haye they to legislate
And say, "Let tenants emigrate"
They would famine there create,
But, 10! their day is getting late,
Which was, alas too long.
These are not days of famine wild,
When thousands down we're smitten,
When Mikey Davitt was child,
Ere little Charlie Parnell smiled
To see playful kitten.
None deemed when they were children mild,
They'd win the hearts of the exiled.
Shine forth and shake the long def1led
Tremendous powers of Britain.
Know we the vast Land League array
FOE DTlukluk tyIduIS " uAoAA"ys
MY fellow countrymen?
1t was not born to live day,
And then repiniDg, droop away,
Never to breathe again.
The swelling tide OF Land League fees
Will soon decide the fate of these
Few terrified-struck absentees-
And pampered lords and dukes that seize
On the rights of E,ins Isle,
And shout, 1.-THE Mistress of the Seas"
Unmerciful the while.
They fain would hold the locks and keys.
And claDking chains of thraldom still,
Despite the wide, unconquered will
OF millions of the Irish race,
Who did the Land League faith embrace,
With able men to plead their case,
From cline to cline, around the face
Of this great orb, to halt the pace
Oftyrants, still in tyrants' place.
Creating to their own disgrace
Extreme coercion vile.
Behold it now in power and might,
Expanding i'll the light of right,
Unwaverine' aud bound to smite
If possible, by calm exertion,
The modern testers of coercion,
Who point to prison cells.
Yea! let them point, they cant fatigue
The forward marching of the League,
That quietly rebels.
The Land League of humanity,
Indorsed by Christianity,
Was burn to terrify, aye! scorn
The efforts Of the tyrants born,
To hear the harp-so long forlorn-
Chime freedom on st. Patrick's morn,
Beneath flag need not name,
A flag of glory and OF fame,
A flag whose people can proclaim,
Was never known to droop in blame.
In days of pixies or shells.
We don't forget those scenes OF yore,
Say, Clontarf on the Shamrock shore,
Aye Fontenoy, and many more;
The roaring of the British lion
Can never drown the sound of Brian,
Who set example to the world,
Beneath his own dear flag unfurled;
Many have followed his example,
Gave more than blow for blow,
And vanquished those who dared to trample
The flag of Brian low.
This be the ballot would vote,
Calm peace and progress to promote
To far off men who till
Hang to the lion by the throat,
And choke him down un'il he's smote,
Then shall the flag Of freedom float
High over Independence, wrote
BY men Of honor, worth and note
In modern Athens still.
That is, may agitation, calm and cool,
That lion choke, and gain domestic rule
Without future Bunker't Hill
When peace and happiness prevails,
In England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales,
They'll have Home Rule. but not till then;
But never House OF Lords again,
A landlord temple, a tyrant's den;
Soon may they have their Congress men
Beneuth their flags unfurled,
To animate the millions when
They have restored the hills and dales
Of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales,
From out the tangs of lords and dukes.
Who feel the pangs OF hot rebukes
That echo round the world.
Not to intruGe upon the time,
/ now conclude NY simple rhyme,
NV views upon the Land League of mankin,
The schacklcss voice that chains can neveribin
JOHN MARRIOTT
R1chfeld, September u.